


His Sweet Kiss

by valiantlybold



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Feelings Realization, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Yennefer, Sort Of, geralt being geralt, geralt is Bad With Words and decides to act instead, geralt totally has a scent kink and you can fight me on it, i wrote this in twenty minutes, jaskier being jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:14:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantlybold/pseuds/valiantlybold
Summary: Geralt is no fool.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 1390





	His Sweet Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kolettshepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolettshepard/gifts).



> ayo first fic in the fandom and i havent even finished the show yet
> 
> (EDIT, 01282020: I wrote myself into a corner so this is no longer in the series called "the white wolf and a little lark" because im a dumbass 😅😅)

It’s been a few days since they split up with Yennefer again. Geralt is relieved to be rid of her, to be honest. She’s a good fuck, certainly, but she’s always dragging trouble with her. Geralt’s got enough trouble to deal with on his own, without adding her mess to it all. Hell, just Jaskier hanging on his heels is almost more trouble than it’s worth.

Almost.

Geralt takes the rabbits by the ears and starts heading back to camp. Usually, they had to make due with sharing just one rabbit, or pheasant, or some other woodland creature, but he’d stumbled onto the scent of a mated pair and caught them both. One of each of them. Still wasn’t much, but it’d last them until they could get to the next village.

He hears the strumming of Jaskier’s lute long before he gets close to camp. With ears as sharp as Geralt’s, there was no way around something like that, he supposed. At least it’s a decent melody. Not one of those annoying tunes the damn bard’s conjured up about Geralt’s supposed _conquests,_ which when told by Jaskier are more lies _(embellishments, Geralt! I’m not lying, I’m just telling a good story!)_ than actual facts.

Jaskier begins to sing just as Geralt reaches the edge of the clearing. He’s approaching from behind the bard, out of sight. Too focused on his song, Jaskier hasn’t heard him coming either. He carries on as though completely alone in the world.

Geralt find himself stopping to listen.

_“The fairer sex, they often call it_

_But her love’s as unfair as a crook_

_It steals all my reason_

_Commits every treason_

_Of logic, with naught but a look_

_A storm breaking on the horizon_

_Of longing and heartache and lust_

_She’s always bad news_

_It’s always lose, lose_

_So tell me, love, tell me, love_

_How is that just?_

_But the story is this_

_She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss_

_Her sweet kiss_

_But the story is this_

_She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss”_

Geralt’s no fool. He’s clever enough to figure out the meaning behind those words, who it is Jaskier is talking about.

He speaks of Yennefer, there is no doubt.

Her love, _if it can be called that,_ is indeed unfair. Everything about her is unfair, but it’s just like Jaskier sings. Every time she sweeps back into their lives, she somehow steals every rational thought in Geralt’s head, only to throw him aside when her business is finished. He doesn’t blame her for it, not really. Geralt’s done the same thing to plenty of people; made use of them, then left them behind when their use was done.

And it isn’t just. That is the answer the question Jaskier poses. It _isn’t_ just, and it isn’t fair.

_“_ _Her current is pulling you closer_

_And charging the hot, humid night_

_The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool_

_Better stay out of sight_

_I’m weak_ _,_ _my love, and I am wanting_

_If this is the path I must trudge_

_I welcome my sentence_

_Give to you my penance_

_Garrotter, jury and judge_ _”_

The verse makes something uncomfortable clench in Geralt’s chest.

Does Jaskier mean himself? Weak and wanting, walking alongside as his love is drawn in again and again by an unfair woman…

Geralt’s chest seizes again.

He is no fool.

He moves again. He lets his leg brush along the side of a bush, rustling the leaves, announcing him. The sound makes Jaskier jump, his lute striking an off chord as he clings to it. His head whips around, eyes wide, but he visibly relaxes when he spots Geralt. The sticky scent of fear only graces the air for a moment, before dissipating again.

 _“_ _Gods,_ Geralt!” Jaskier says as he stands up, gently setting his lute aside. “What are you thinking, sneaking up on a man like that? I bloody well near had a heart attack!”

Geralt hums. He sits down by the fire and draws his knife, starting on preparing the rabbits for roasting. Jaskier doesn’t stop talking.

*

Night has fallen. The moon shines and the stars are out.

They sit on Jaskier’s bedroll by the fire. His roll lays closes to the fire, with Geralt’s on the other side towards the forest. It is the best Geralt can do in such open terrain. He can cover one of Jaskier’s sides, but the fire will have to suffice for the other. Jaskier needs to be closest to the fire for the sake of warmth, as well. Geralt runs hotter than humans, he needn’t be as close to the flames.

Geralt has already decided what to do. He doesn’t know how it will be received, but he has a good guess. He is better with action than words anyway, he knows that. If he tries to say what he is thinking, he will only make a mess of things. With action, the message gets across clearly, without confusion.

Jaskier strums aimlessly at his lute, humming a tune now and then. He’s thinking of a new tale to tell when they get to the next town, no doubt.

Geralt shuffles aside. He lays down. Jaskier seems to freeze solid, when Geralt rests his head on the bard’s thigh, just under the neck of the lute.

“Play the song again,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

He can hear Jaskier’s heart racing. The smell of lust is pungent in the air. It’s so thick that Geralt thinks he could almost reach out and grab it, catch it in his hand, if he tried.

“Wh-Which one?” is all Jaskier stammers out.

For once, he seems almost lost for words.

“The one about Yennefer.”

He listens to Jaskier inhale a sharp little breath. He begins to smell like pain and anger and sadness. All of Jaskier’s smells mix around Geralt.

“You’re right, you know,” Geralt says. “She’s only trouble.”

The anger seems to fade away just a little. If confusion had a smell, Jaskier would probably be pouring with it.

Geralt hums. He moves slightly, gets his head in a more comfortable place on Jaskier’s thigh.

“I like you better,” he says lowly. “You’re not _as much_ trouble.”

Then, Jaskier truly does seem lost for words. The last traces of anger in the air fade fully, followed by the sadness and pain. Instead, they are replaced by a softer, warmer scent. Jaskier’s heart still races.

Geralt feels gentle fingers stroke over his white mane briefly.

Jaskier plays the song again.

**Author's Note:**

> this dumbass forgot to add the song link that inspired this fic
> 
> [Her Sweet Kiss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyZvWBFbIRw&feature=youtu.be)


End file.
